


A show in Tallahassee

by spys_written_garbage



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Awkward First Times, Drug Use, I'm placing Nate at maybe 17 and Pickles at like 20? but still... hads up, M/M, NSFW, Trans Character, Underage Drinking, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 07:25:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14303739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spys_written_garbage/pseuds/spys_written_garbage
Summary: While still in Snakes n' Barrels, Pickles finds the sound he'd been dreaming of in the newbie band that opens for them while on tour in Florida.Pickles decides right then and there to fuck their singer, who's a huge fan and has a fat dick.





	A show in Tallahassee

What was the point? it all just went in one ear and came out the other. Yes, yes, of course they had the sound to out-live other hair-metal acts, but fans would get embarrassed by the glamour, critics would stop putting up with the image, people would get tired of it all. Pickles knew because he was getting tired of it. He needed heavier music.

Critical darlings, billboard smashing Snakes n' Barrels was on their Americana tour promoting an album with five singles, none of which managed to break past number 20. Their manager said a more humble approach would get them new attention, to reach out to the common folk, do more acoustic ballads. Whatever.

So they weren't playing an arena; the shithole bog they were at probably didn't even have one and they'd probably need to sell tickets to the mosquitoes to fill one anyway. They were playing at a tiny, tiny stadium and had local bands opening for them. Pickles wanted heavier music and what did he get? singing love songs to a bunch of swamp rednecks. At least Florida had cocaine.

 

"Sebaceous Gutslash Wraith Worm?"

By God.

Wow.

 _Wow_.

It was the _shittiest_ fucking name Pickles had ever seen.

"So what's these jack offs' deal?"

Tony shrugged

"They playin' some Skynyrd kinna' crap or somethin'?"

"Who cares?"

He needed to re-read the name again. It took talent to be that shit.

"Wanna turn on the speakers? They're on right now"

 

"Well, it's not Skynyrd"

"Shut up! I wanna' hear!"

That was it. That was it. That scrappy little band from the boonies was what Pickles wished his multi-platinum band sounded like. They'd be better if they were a bit more melodic, better production, a better drummer, _but that singer_. Pickles had to have a closer look.

"Where you goin', Pickles?"

"Jus' goin' up to watch the show"

"Seriously?"

"I'll be back"

"We're gonna finish all the cocaine, dude"

"Yeah, yeah. Sure."

 

So.

He'd found him. Pickles didn't know what he'd been looking for was a singer, but he was looking at the guy who'd take him to music history. The sound, the attitude, the showmanship... Snakes n' Barrels had the stage presence of gods, but this guy had the stage presence of a demon.

Their fifteen minute set was just about over, the singer turned to grab a can from the floor when he noticed Pickles watching him. He sure was a big guy, looked pretty funny all deer-in-headlights-like. Pickles half-smiled at him and he tipped the entire can back, quickly turning around as if they hadn't made any eye contact. Nice.

That was it. He was gonna head back, talk to them after the show and have them go on tour with Snakes n' Barrels, or maybe just their front-man, maybe talk to their manager and get him a deal or something. The guy crushed the can and threw it on the floor, then just as his band finished their last song, he spat blood all over the mosh pit.

"FUCK YOU, TALLAHASSEE!"

No, Pickles had to fuck this guy.

 

"Sounded pretty good out 'dere"

"You're.... you're Pickles from Snakes n' Barrels"

"Where'd ya' learn to sing like that?"

"You're Pickles from Snakes n' Barrels."

"Ya wanna see my dressing room?"

"Yes"

 

He was still covered in blood, Pickles didn't know his name and he'd forgotten the name of his band, but he was the heaviest, most metal thing he'd ever witnessed and the look was kinda hot.

"So yer' a fan, huh?"

"Yeah!" he cleared his throat "Yeah, we're erm, I'm, I'm a pretty big fan"

"Ya been playin' shows for a long time?"

"No, this is my- our first time on a stage" he cleared his throat again

"Ya want some water?"

"Yeah. Uh, please"

Pickles sat down next to the newbie as he handed him a bottle. One leg crossed over his lap, his arm on the backrest behind the kid who was sitting completely curled up on the edge of the couch, stiff as a rock.

"Uh, thank you"

"This yer' first time on the back of a stage then, huh"

"No, uh... I bought passes before"

"None a' the band members bring you backstage themselves?"

The big guy blinked, shifted. Pickles scooted closer, he'd be wrapping his arm around his shoulders if he weren't slouching away from it, but he wasn't moving away, either.

"Um, no. They uh, no, they didn't"

"Only the groupies, huh"

"Yeah"

Pickles pulled away, from behind the arm rest on his side, he produced a bottle of vodka and took a swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his wrist as he offered it to his guest, who again escaped eye contact with a drink.

Pickles rested his cheek on his fist and watched him through painted eyelashes. The guy took another gulp. He looked down at their laps as he purposely pressed his slim thigh against his--so strong, then looked back up. Another gulp. He bit one of the fingers of his red leather gloves and pulled it off, keeping the glove between his teeth as he reached to the singer's shaggy black hair, just long enough to tuck some behind his ear. He took a gulp. Pickles put both his gloves on the coffee table, stretching slowly back towards his guest, the guy didn't pull away, he breathed against his slightly blood covered neck, his fan dropped his shoulder and exposed his jugular. Just a peck, then a pause. A kiss, fingertips just barely touching the boy's strong jaw. He sighed.

"You okay with this?"

He nodded

"Yeah?"

"Yeah..."

The blood was sweet like sugar, Pickles's lips dragged a trail of it to his fan's ear. He shivered as Pickles rolled the stud in his tongue against it. His lips were stained even after he licked them, Pickles was aware but that was the makeup person's problem. His hand trailed down the singer's chest, over his stomach and palmed at his crotch.

"Oh fuck"

Pickles shivered. How often did the celebrity lavish all of the attention on to the fan? He undid the man's belt one handed and reached in, his eyes and grin widening. Un-fucking-believable. He really _was_ exactly what Pickles had been looking for, huh.

"Have ya ever gotten a blowjob from a guy before?"

Deer in headlights again. "I uh..."

Pickles pulled his pants down a bit and rolled his hand around him in long, slow strokes.

"Well, haha, well, I haven't..." The man's eyes half-closed

Patience was just a virtue rock stars didn't have. Pickles put his hands on his guest's knees and lowered himself between them.

"No. Not really"

"Ya want one?"

"Yeah"

Pickles didn't waste a second to pull out the big guns, a sex icon had to deliver after all. He wet his food-dye-stained lips and flashed the stud on his tongue, really made a show of licking up his cock, let him commit to memory the image and feel of his idol going down on him. It was a matter of pride to give him the best blowjob of his life. He hummed as he descended mouth-open on to his fan's cock, earning himself a lovely growl in appreciation.

If Pickles was going to be honest with himself, his eyes were bigger than his mouth and also probably bigger than every other opening in his body, but if Pickles was being honest with himself, he was a horny idiot with bad impulse control, so he hollowed his cheeks and took deep breaths.

He masked his gags with moans and tears dragged his eyeliner down his cheeks. A combination of precum and spit dribbled down to his guest's jeans. The bigger man placed a hand on Pickles's head as his hips squirmed. The band's makeup artist was gonna have a fine stinking day already, the hair person didn't need to get screwed as well.

"Dun' touch the hair, dood"

"Oh shit. Sorry" His hands snapped back as if Pickles had pulled a gun on him.

"Uh, Pickles?"

"What?"

"....Are we gonna fuck?"

Pickles smirked as he wiped his goatee and got up to his feet, from the counter of his vanity, he fetched a rubber and tossed it to his partner, who didn't hesitate to tear the thing open and roll it on, seemed really proud of his work, too.

"Good ta' go?" By then, Pickles's boots and pants had been tossed to a side. Although he was certainly very wet, lord knew he'd need all the help he could get.

"Uhm. Yeah" The boy took a large breath and sighed loud. Either out of politeness or awe, he didn't look down from Pickle's eyes, at least not after giving him that first once-over. Pickles chuckled, straddling those strong thighs and sitting on them, his hands so gentle on the other man's shoulders they were half a caress, half a gesture of reassurance. His hands traveled down muscular arms, slowly guiding one of his day's lover's hand up his leg, letting it continue without guidance as he pumped a generous amount of lube into the other hand.

With another deep breath, the nervous wreck beneath him coated the entrance of Pickles's cunt, looking up to him as he pushed in past his lips.

"Fuck yeah... There ya' go" Pickles was kind enough to grab his wrist and grind his hips to the right rhythm and angle. "Gahd, yer hands are fuckin' huge" Finally, he got a smile, well, half a smile. "If you think my _hands_ are huge..."

No kiddin'. "Ya gonna fill me up with more than 'yer fingers 'dere?" Pickles slid himself off of his fan's hand, instead rocking against his cock, covering him in lube as he lazily held on to broad shoulders for balance.

The boy buried his face in the nape of Pickles's neck and nibbled at his perfumed collar bone, his 'huge' hands grabbing hold of his idol's hips. "Yep" Just like that, Pickles was picked up as if he weighed nothing at all. If his companion felt large before, having to hold on to now tense muscles and wrapping his legs around a far wider waist than his own really gave him a better idea of what he was dealing with. Now _he_ was the one taking the deep breaths before something he might regret.

Pickles reached down and rolled his fingertips over his cock to make the entry easier. More receptive, he threw his head back when the tip slipped in.

"Okay. Okay. Hold on" He sighed as he was rested against a wall with quite a bit more care than he would have given a shit about were he the one doing the heavy lifting.

"Oh shit, am I hurting you?"

After a moment, Pickles smiled "Lemme' have it, big guy"

There was an _attempt_ to start off easy and work his way up to fucking him good and deep, but that bit of care chipped away quickly as the singer began to thrust and his young, athletic star-struck instincts finally got the better of his nervousness. It couldn't have been a minute before he had the smaller man was bouncing off his hips and clawing marks under that loose sleeveless t shirt.

Pickles wasn't discrete in how he felt about this.

"Fucking shit. Pickles! Oh fuck, Pickles!"

A ravenous kiss met the rock star's lips as he got fucked into oblivion, and completely against what he would have done in any other situation, Pickles responded to the kiss in earnest.

Between his amazing voice, the near neurotic need not to embarrass himself in front of his idol, the absolute passion and honesty he was displaying and the fact that the boy had ended his performance by spitting blood on to the audience had Pickles simply enamored. All that blow and getting his intestines rearranged certainly didn't hurt, either. Maybe that's what a gutslash was.

"God, you're so fucking cool. Pickles, you're amazing. You're so hot and amazing."

Pickles didn't last too long once the worshiping started spilling out.

"Fuck!" The big guy gave Pickles a bone crushing bear-hug when he came, taking a few steps back and coming down on to the couch in the same position in which they'd started.

It took him a minute, or he was enjoying resting on the guy's chest, whatever, but Pickles _did_ eventually sit up, now both their shirts completely covered in fake blood and sticking to one another.

"Yer' an amazing fuck, ya know that?"

"Wow." He smiled. "Thanks. Thank you."

"But I'm sure ya get that often"

"Uh..." He un-smiled. "This was... sort of my first."

Pickles paused. Froze, more like.

"The fuck-"

 **BANG BANG BANG** "FIVE MINUTES, PICKLES!!"

"Oh fuck!" Pickles shot up to the vanity where he'd left his pants and shoes, only to become disheartened when the mirror let him know he had completely annihilated his makeup and outfit and was an idiot.

"Hey! are ya' stain' for the show?" He just shoved his feet into his boots and decided to go on stage shirtless.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course" The poor guy just looked down at his own appearance, realizing there was nothing he could do besides take the rubber off and put his dick away, which still only marginally helped in hiding that he'd just had sex.

"Awesome" Pickles rummaged through the drawers and fixed his eyeliner. Kinda. Then fixed his hair. Sort of. He was just gonna own the red stained lips and hope everybody was used to his bullshit enough not to give him shit over it.

"Come see me after the show, 'aright? ya gotta come on tour with us or somethin'"

"... Holy shit, really?"

 **BANG BANG BANG** "YOU'RE ON IN ONE MINUTE!!"

"Fuck me! you can get back to the crowd through that door next to ya'"

He got up immediately.

"Wait wait wait!" Pickles turned back to him again. The 'just got laid' look suited him spectacularly.

"What's yer name?"

"Uh, Nathan."

Pickles smiled. "Come see me after the show, Na'ten."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really planning on writing much (which is what I said last time and now here we are) but uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhh constructive criticism is.... encouraged. Unless it's like grammar mistakes. Don't tell me about those.
> 
> If I'm gonna write the occasional porn I'd like it to not be garbage I guess.


End file.
